


from day to day

by adiva_calandia



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiva_calandia/pseuds/adiva_calandia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Macbeth and his lady. "O Death, where is your victory? O Death, where is your sting?" Semi-explicit and pretty dark themes around death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from day to day

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Lady Macbeth/Macbeth, o death" at the November NaNo Failure Ficathon. (http://falseeeyelashes.livejournal.com/348077.html)

Moving together with only the banked coals of the fire for light, her skin painted orange as she rides him, his in shadow as he rolls his hips beneath her. Her nails leave white tracks and reddened crescents on his shoulders.

_Tomorrow, and_

He loves her fiercely like this and knows his ferocity is nothing to hers. There was blood in his hair when he came to bed; there will be blood on her back when she finally lays next to him, from where he made his own marks on her. She whispered to him once, just after they wed, that she liked to feel her pulse in those small hurts.

_tomorrow, and_

The pulse of her around him stutters in a different rhythm than the pulse beneath her breasts beneath her skin beneath his hands, and when he feels it he takes her by the hips and rolls her to her back, presses belly to belly to take his own pleasure, spilling life inside her (life that will never take root, life that will

_tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow_

_will not come_

never come)

Tomorrow is an inconceivable notion. _The Queen, my lord, is dead._

After all their little deaths together, he cannot understand how one can be dead and the other not. So he will to the battlefield as a dead man already, and know the sisters' prophecy to be fulfilled: no man of woman born may kill Macbeth. Macbeth died with his lady.


End file.
